


Plush

by Patchouli (lifelesslyndsey)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Although, Blankets, Bleeding Out, Gen, Gen Fic, If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, Pre-Slash, Scent Marking, there is, this is a fic about a blanket not people god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 18:19:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4756364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifelesslyndsey/pseuds/Patchouli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You don’t like it,” Dere, said from the corner - of course he did.  He stepped out of the shadow there, face pulled into his perpetual scowl. </p><p>	Stiles only flailed a little. Okay, that’s a lie. He flailed hard,  tripping up on the strap of his backpack and falling face first into said microplush monstrosity.  Huffing - and seriously what kind of fabric softener did Derek use, it was wonderful - he pushed himself up, rolling ungracefully onto the floor. </p><p>	“Mostly I am confused by its presence,” he admitted, in way of replying to Derek’s not-quite-a-question. “What is it doing here, on my bed?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plush

**Author's Note:**

> i don't really recall writing these things, they just appear in my google docs at three in the morning while I dwell in a void of existence and doritos

Microplush.

 

Stiles is contemplating the soft, warm fabric of the blanket where it’s thrown half-hazardly over his bed. It’s gray, a deep charcoal just a breath away from black. It’s massive, swamping Stiles full-sized bed. Clearly it was made for a king or queen size mattress.  

 

Most importantly of course is that it isn’t Stiles blanket. Stiles owns an admittedly scratchy comforter in steely blue, purchased by his crazy Aunt Wanda for some past birthday. Wanda was totally the kind of aunt that bought you clothes you didn’t like for christmas, and scratchy, poly-blend comforters for birthdays.  That’s okay though. Stiles had sent her a festive birthday card in return - and filled the envelope full of glitter.

 

Anyway, the point here, is that the fancy-pants top dollar microplush blanket was not his, regardless of the fact that Stiles had found it on his bed after school.

 

“You don’t like it,” Dere, said from the corner - of course he did.  He stepped out of the shadow there, face pulled into his perpetual scowl.

 

Stiles only flailed a little. Okay, that’s a lie. He flailed hard,  tripping up on the strap of his backpack and falling face first into said microplush monstrosity.  Huffing - and seriously what kind of fabric softener did Derek use, it was wonderful - he pushed himself up, rolling ungracefully onto the floor.

 

“Mostly I am confused by its presence,” he admitted, in way of replying to Derek’s not-quite-a-question. “What is it doing here, on my bed?”

 

Derek blinked. “You said I owed you a new one. Blanket.” He stares at Stiles expectantly, but gets nothing in return. “I bled on the blue one.”

 

“You hemorrhaged on the blue one,” Stiles remembers suddenly. He’d told his father the un-removable stain was chocolate sauce, as he pulled it out of the dryer. “That was like...two weeks ago.”

 

Derek makes an impatient noise, nostrils flaring. He’s uncomfortable about something, but Stiles has no idea what. Doesn’t care much either, he’s tired as fuck - track and field was ten times more brutal than Lacrosse ever had been, but maybe that was because he was on the front line and not the bench.

 

“If you don’t like it----”

 

“I like it, I like it,” Stiles said in a rush, if only to get to his nap quicker. He kicked his book bag fully out of the way before dropping purposefully onto the bed. “Thank you kind sir for your generous offer, holy shit dude what the hell is this made out of it’s like sleeping on the soft downy fur of a kitten's belly----”

 

“I’m leaving no.”

  
  


(derek bought the blanket two weeks ago, after Stiles demanded he replace the bloody one. he’d have given it to Stiles sooner, but he had to sleep on it first, until it smelled like him. for reasons.)

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
